Confidence is Razor Thin
by Sandshrew777
Summary: Chekov goes home for his eighteenth birthday and comes back slightly different. Sulu tries to figure out what's wrong with his favorite ensign. A pseudo-sequel to my story, "Pirouette", but this stands on its own as well. Chekov/Sulu.


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, this universe, or...much of anything really. So don't sue me. Please.**

**Author's Note: This is sort of a sequel to my story "Pirouette" which was a sequel to my other story "Doublemint" so if you want to read them first, please do. It's not necessary at all - this can stand alone just fine. I hope you enjoy, and PLEASE leave a review!**

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"Mr. Chekov, I need a flightplan," Captain Kirk announced.

"Aye, Keptin. Vhere vill ve be going?" Chekov asked, fingers poised over the computer's keyboard.

"Neptune. And brush us as close to home as you can," Kirk said.

Spock flinched, almost imperceptibly, but Chekov couldn't see that. A smile tiptoed around Sulu's lips, but Chekov couldn't see that either. Uhura shook her head a little, as if pleasantly frustrated with something, but Chekov didn't know what and didn't see it.

"Home, sir?" Chekov asked after a quick pause, turning around to face his Captain.

"Yes, Mr. Chekov. Home," Kirk replied, a mysterious grin slipping into his face.

"May...May I eenquire as to vhy, sir?" Chekov asked, his eyes wide and confused.

"Well, I heard that one of my favorite crew members happened to be celebrating a birthday soon," Kirk said. "An eighteenth birthday, as a matter of fact..."

Chekov stared at his Captain, his quick mind slowly putting the pieces together.

"YAHOO!" he screamed, leaping out of his chair and punching the air with his fist. Kirk laughed. Sulu chuckled. Uhura rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Spock's lips twitched once.

"Ah...am sorry, Keptin. I veell dewelop flight plan right avay, sir," Chekov promised, blushing as he took his seat again, his fingers flying almost as quickly as his smile was spreading.

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"I vill haff time for zhree day wisit before I must return to space," Chekov explained, scooping mashed potatoes into his mouth at top speed.

"Slow down. You're going to get indigestion," Sulu advised, his eyes wide. He'd forgotten how much a teenager could eat - and how fast an excited one could do it.

"Da, _muzzer_!" Chekov shot back, sticking out a tongue covered in mashed potatoes.

"Ugh!" Sulu said, shaking his head, smiling despite himself. "Grow up, will you?"

"Hmm..." Chekov trailed off, adopting a thoughtful look, throwing his eyes to the ceiling, resting his hand on his chin, spoon sticking out of the side of his fist. "Nyet, I do not zhink I vill," he decided, pulling a face at Sulu.

Sulu laughed and took another bite of his own potatoes, watching as Chekov attacked his chicken breast like a starved hyena. Or maybe a rabbit - his fingers were so slim and his eyes so wide and his hair so _fluffy_...

"So...how are you going to spend your birthday, Chekov? At home, I hope?" Sulu asked, now pushing his banana pudding around his tray.

"Da. Mama has whole family vaiting for me een Chelyabinsk. Eet vill be wery fun, am sure," Chekov replied in between bites of chicken.

Sulu tried not to frown. Each member of the crew would offer his own birthday wishes to Chekov when he returned to the ship. They were professionals; parties were unnecessary. Socializing was unnecessary. He certainly didn't need to be there the day Chekov became legal...

"I hope so," Sulu said. "You never forget your eighteenth."

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Sulu made damn sure he was there when Chekov beamed back aboard. He was beyond anxious to see his friend after three days of missing him and wanted to hear all about his big day. They all were - Captain Kirk hadn't stopped grinning and Uhura was nearly bouncing in her seat and even Spock...well, Sulu was sure Spock was eager to see him, too. How could he not?

How could anyone not like Chekov? His eyes were so bright...and his pretty little smile...and the way he giggled at stupid jokes...and that _sexy_ accent...

"Mr. Chekov! It's good to have you back," Captain Kirk said. Sulu spun around, beaming.

It didn't last for long - Chekov was smiling and saying words but they were missing just a little something. For someone who had been watching the boy for months, it was obvious - something had happened and it was still on Chekov's mind.

Sulu waved and grinned at his Chekov. He was on the case now and there was no stopping him.

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Sulu had forgotten about that thing called a door. Pesky things those doors, getting in the way of his very important investigation.

He had had a golden idea - snoop around in Chekov's room while Chekov was on duty and see if he could find any clues. He'd forgotten, of course, that he'd need Chekov's code.

He stood there for a while until it came to him - garbage detail! Someone on garbage detail would be able to get inside.

Sulu ran back to his room and after a few fancy keystrokes, had his man. He tailed Private Jacobson to the rooms near the med bay, snuck up behind him, snitched his key card from his back pocket, and made the quick getaway without a hitch.

Oh, he was _good_.

What wasn't good, however, was the state of Chekov's room. Sulu was a fairly neat man by his own standards, and this...was a pig sty. Clothes were strewn about across the floor, gadgets here and there, books overturned and half-open everywhere. There was barely a path for Sulu to take to get from one end of the room to the other.

He snooped around for a while, notching things in his head for future reference - Chekov's aftershave, a strangely minty scent; his shampoo, a fruity raspberry; his underwear drawer, all plaid boxers except for some long underwear and one pink thong. That had been an eyebrow-raiser and gave Sulu hope he didn't want to have.

That hope crashed down when, having given up, Sulu turned to leave. The trash can near the door was mostly empty except for one item: vodka.

Five full bottles of vodka.

Sulu frowned but made himself leave, walk down to where he knew Jacobson would be scratching his head on his route, explain to him that he'd found his key card in the cafeteria and that he should be more careful not to leave it lying around.

And when he bought that bullshit story, Sulu walked back to his room like a zombie.

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The thing was that Chekov didn't ever look or smell drunk and Sulu never caught him with a hangover. He'd known Chekov for a good four months now and never once had he been operating unusually. He was always the same bright Chekov, smiling and bounding around and so _cute_...

And he still was, and had been for the past week since he'd been back from his eighteenth birthday, but Sulu still felt there was something...wrong. Off. Odd.

He got his big break when he noticed a big break one day when he was eating dinner with Chekov, as usual when their schedules crossed, in the officer's mess.

"What'd you do to your finger?" Sulu asked, pointing out Chekov's left index finger. Chekov blushed.

"Oh. Zat," he said, swallowing a mouthful of pulled pork sandwich. "Ees nozing. Slammed eet een door panel on eenspection patrol. Some eedeeot had bong and deed not vant me, as offeecer, knoweeng."

Sulu raised an eyebrow.

"Wow. That's, um...wow," he managed. He was fairly shocked - Chekov knew what a bong looked like? His Chekov, his sweet innocent Chekov?

"Da. Crazy vhat happens een space, eh?" Chekov replied, grinning through a mouth of applesauce.

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Sulu had heard better stories than that, and his gut told him Chekov was lying. He knew it - fresh-faced boys were notoriously bad at it. His younger brothers tried it all the time when he was back home and they couldn't do it without breaking into giggles.

Chekov was certainly lying and _drinking_ and as Sulu frowned into his bathroom mirror, he knew he had the answer in front of him and was just missing it somehow.

He finished dressing, preoccupied, so much so that when he exited he walked straight into the boy he'd been thinking about all morning.

"Oh! Chekov! I'm so sorry," he apologized, reaching down, helping him to his feet.

He was so light, so taut, so _gorgeous_ in that white terrycloth nightrobe with the ducks on it and -

Wait a second, robe?

"Ees okay, Sulu, I...vas lookeeng for you, actually," Chekov admitted, looking down, muttering. "Could ve...speak een your room, please? I need some...adwice."

Sulu blinked, realized he was still holding onto Chekov, let go quickly.

"Um, sure, come on," he managed, a steering hand on Chekov's back.

"You sure eet ees no trouble?" Chekov asked, nervousness sliding out of his eyes like tears.

"You're never trouble, Chekov," Sulu said on auto-pilot, grinning. Chekov gave a little smile back and walked in his room, sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Your room ees so...clean. I vish I could keep mine like zis," Chekov admitted, twiddling his fingers together.

"I know," Sulu said, taking a seat on his desk chair. "I mean, thanks," he added, realizing his mistake. Chekov didn't notice - too preoccupied, Sulu noticed. He waited.

"Do you...I mean...vhen...vhen deed you start shaveeng?" Chekov finally sputtered out.

Sulu blinked.

"Um...I think I was...thirteen?" he said. "I don't remember. It was a while ago."

Chekov's lips flinched.

"Oh," he said. "Zhen...eight - er, fourteen vould be...behind ze curve, da?"

"Er...a little bit, I suppose," Sulu replied, resisting the urge to ask why Chekov was asking him these oddball questions. He was a better detective than that - let the suspect reveal as much information as possible before grilling him.

"I ask because my leetle brozzer, back home, he ees not shaveeng yet and he vas vorried none of ze girls vould be eenterested," Chekov rambled out, looking up at last, panic obvious in his quick consonants, wide eyes blinking furiously.

"Ah. How old is he?" Sulu asked politely. A plan was starting to form, half-eaten, in his mind. He was going to figure this out at last...and he really wanted some breakfast.

"Fourteen," Chekov said quickly.

"Hmm," Sulu said, buying time. "Well. I'd tell him that you can be attractive at any age. You just have to be confident in yourself."

"Confeedent?" Chekov repeated, confused.

"Yeah," Sulu replied. "Confident. You have to be happy with what you've got and just put it out there. Someone'll take an interest in him. Someone prob'ly already has," he added, grinning.

Chekov wasn't convinced.

"But...but vhat eef he ees tryeeng for somevone older? Vhat eef he ees not mature enough?" he asked.

"I don't think it would matter," Sulu replied quickly.

"But Sulu, he ees not ewen close to being man! He ees just a boy, just a stupeed boy and cannot ewen grow a leetle beard at eighteen and cuts heemself on ze finger viz ze leetle razor! How ees he ewen goeeng to haff a shot?" Chekov argued, standing up now, obviously distraught.

"Fourteen," Sulu said quietly.

"Vhat?" Chekov asked, looking undone, breathing heavily, confused beyond recognition.

"Your brother is fourteen. You are eighteen," Sulu explained slowly. Chekov's eyes widened and he sat back down on Sulu's perfectly made bed, his jaw shaking a little.

"Now...who's the lucky someone you're trying to impress?" Sulu said, coaching it as kindly as he could, like an older brother, smiling.

It worked.

Sort of.

"Eh...I vould rather not say," Chekov muttered.

"Well. My advice still applies. All you have to do is be confident. You're a good-looking guy. You should have no problem," Sulu said, trying to keep the smile stapled on. _His_ Chekov was going after someone else, or at least wanted to.

Well, he would be a lookout then. A good friend, privy to all the gossip.

And if this girl hurt him, she was in for a world of -

"You called me 'guy'," Chekov said, his voice dripping with surprise. Sulu blinked. "You deed not say 'boy'. I vas sure you vould."

"You're no boy," Sulu said after a pause. "Not where it counts."

He couldn't say anything else and he was getting into dangerous territory. He had to back off or else he was going to say something he would regret, something that'd screw up their friendship and then he'd lose Chekov for sure, he just knew it.

Luckily his words seemed to have done the trick - Chekov was getting up.

"I...should sleep. And you should eat. Breakfast ees most eemportant meal of ze day," Chekov reminded him, a bit of that sprightliness creeping back into his stature, his voice.

Sulu smiled.

"Right. Good talking to you, Chekov," he said, nodding from his chair, getting up slowly, intending to stay in his room to think this over before his shift - he had some cereal stashed away, he'd just have that.

Chekov smiled, trudged over to the door, fluffy pink slippers brushing against Sulu's clean floor. He was so _adorable_ that it hurt.

He stopped in the open doorway and Sulu was sure he was going to say thank you, he knew it was coming, it would be so classic and so Chekov and he just knew -

And then Chekov turned, something blazing in his eyes that Sulu had never dared to see, and he took a few steps toward him and Sulu felt his knees go weak like a little girl's would and then...

"I vill try to haff more confeedence een myself," he whispered, a breath away from Sulu, so close it made Sulu's heart stop.

"But you vill forgiff me, I...cannot reseest ze chance now, while I haff leetle beet," he whispered again, huskier this time, a little smile on his face and then the eyes closed and then - and then!

There was the kiss, little lips on his, sweet and light and what was that taste?

Damnit. Vodka.

Sulu, despite himself, held the kiss for a few more moments, desperate to remember this kiss in case he somehow, mind-bendingly, forgot it. Then he pushed Chekov away lightly, held him by the shoulders in case he tried to do something stupid like run.

"I...loved that," Sulu said and Chekov blushed. "But next time, come without the liquid courage, okay?"

Chekov blushed even further.

"It vas present from Uncle Jules. I zhought...it vould help get me ower how nerwous I vas. I am not - I mean, I do not - I just - " Chekov rambled.

Sulu put a quieting finger on his lips, smiling. He knew Chekov wasn't lying - he was too eager, too sincere, and those eyes gave it away.

"It's fine," Sulu said. "I understand. Really. Now get some sleep. We'll talk later."

Chekov nodded and Sulu removed his finger and Chekov turned to leave again and stopped in the doorway again.

Sulu nearly sighed - another thank you? That would be entirely Chekov.

"Next time? Can you...call me Pavel, please?" Chekov asked, daring to look over his shoulder hopefully.

"As long as you call me Hikaru," Sulu replied, smiling.

"O.K....Hikaru," Pavel said, trying out the name, smiling and exiting in his robe and slippers. The door panel slipped shut.

Sulu shivered and went straight for another shower. A very, very, very cold shower. But first...

"YAHOO!" he yelled.

And one very sleepy Pavel Chekov smiled to himself just outside the door.

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**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review, will you, if only to say a few words.**


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